


The Beauty of the Fields

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-15
Updated: 2010-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missouri Mosely sat up that night, while everyone else was tucked away in their beds and their graves, thumbing through her Bible and watching the stars go by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beauty of the Fields

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the incomparable fajrdrako and by glorified_moron and an unnamed friend. Thank you! *distributes unicorns*
> 
> Sam/Dean if you're looking for it. Gen otherwise.

The world slipped away like a shabby guest escaping a glittering party. Missouri Mosely sat up that night, while everyone else was tucked away in their beds and their graves, thumbing through her Bible and watching the stars go by. The leaves of the Book whispered against her fingers, the only sound that broke the stillness. No more fear, no more weariness, no more nights battling the Devil and death.

No, all that was over now.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the clean, fresh scent of the grass around her, oil from the cars, someone's garbage gone sour. A little dust on the wind.

"Well," she said, "guess everything's as it should be."

She set aside the Bible carefully, and eased out of her old armchair, groaning as her spine cracked. She would take stock later, explore after she'd had a good long nap. She was too old to be up and about after sitting up all night. A light went on in the house across the street, and she smiled.

It was good to know you weren't alone.

 

She was restocking her shelves, unpacking the canned corn and frozen peas in the heat of the afternoon when she heard the low rumble of an engine coming up the road. Right on time. She put the peas in the freezer, set the bread aside for later, and went out to the front porch. The Impala was parked out front, black as the day it was made. Dean was kneeling to inspect the front grille, which was covered in some kind of gunk. Missouri was sure she didn't want to know what it was. Roadkill, she hoped.

"Fucking Mormons!" Dean was saying to Sam. Sam, who was rooting around for something in the back seat, pulled out and turned to look at his brother increduously. "What are you talking about, Dean?" The argument- yes, it was surely an argument- had been going for a while.

"It's Mayan. I mean, look at the circumstances- if it was Christian," Sam said, in the tones of one explaining something to a very small child, "we'd have gotten fire and brimstone and distress upon the people and all that shit. And the meek would have inherited the earth. There's no way one Christian sect was right and all the rest were wrong. Mayan, man, I'm telling you."

He turned to Missouri. "Hey, Missouri," he said. "How are you doing?"

He suddenly swivelled back to Dean. "Besides, isn't there some joke about the Mormons and the end of the world?"

Dean glared at him, and then went back to poking at the car. "This is never gonna come off."

Sam rolled his eyes. "There was a zombie infestation in Ottawa," he said. "Can we, uh, use your shower?"

 

The argument went on intermittently through the day, until evening found the three of them sitting on the front porch watching the sunset. They had ruled out Ragnarok ("That would have been awesome," Dean said wistfully), Zoroastrianism, Judaism, Islam ("Remember that Dajjal dude back in '15? I thought he was the real deal,"), Hopi end times, and Jehova's Witnesses.

Missouri considered the boys and the Impala, wondered why they were here.

When the sun sank below the rooftops, Sam had his head pillowed on Dean's knees. "You know what I think it is?" he said. "We're blind men with the- thingy. Elephant." He smiled up at his brother, who snorted.

"You're drunk, Sammy," Dean said. "Come on, bed for you, before whoever's up there changes his mind about you 'n me." He nudged Sam's back with his toe. "Move your ass."

She watched them go inside, and then looked up the road, which stretched long and empty in both directions. Not many people around anymore. Just spirits, just imprints, just feelings, just souls the Good Lord hadn't collected. Missouri opened her Bible, and breathed in the scent of the old leather and the fragile paper. She wrinkled her nose after a few moments.

Whatever was on Dean's car stank to high heaven.

 

They stayed in Lawrence because there was nowhere else to go. Nothing had tingled in the back of her mind, no papers had reported local horror stories. There was nothing: radio silence. Both of the boys left the house at odd hours, and came back looking tired and defeated. Once they stayed out into the small hours. Missouri didn't ask what they were searching for; she suspected they'd be looking for a powerful long time.

She raised an eyebrow when she noticed that they were sharing a room. Dean caught the look and shrugged, gave her his daddy's best grin. There was the Devil's own spark in his eyes, except Dean Winchester wanted nothing to do with the Devil. He'd had his fill of hell.

"We'd be gone, if we were going," he said. Fourteen years on and the boy still didn't wanna talk about what he'd seen down there.

Not Missouri's fight to fight. That was between Sam and his brother and the Devil.

 

Nothing much had changed. Things were quieter, and evil was only the things men did, the things women coveted, the things children said. Missouri kept herself to herself and the Winchesters- well, they were the Winchesters. Dean was full of nervous energy, bouncing on his heels and tapping his toes. He spent two days cleaning the car inside and out, and Missouri made him do it again, just to give him something to do.

And then early on a Sunday morning (the Morning Star no longer rose; that was a difference) she heard the boys arguing on the porch. "Just a little longer," Dean said.

"We've checked home- what- ten times?" Sam said. "Mom and Dad are gone. I don't think they're ever coming back."

Missouri didn't hear what Dean said; she went into the kitchen and started making chili. Garlic and onions first, and then tomatoes and spices. She licked the chili powder off the spoon, tasted the metallic tang of the cumin underneath it.

The boys left as quietly as they had come. Dean smiled at her, a little sad, a little scared. "Time to go," he said. They kissed her on the cheeks, and packed their bags and left. She watched from the porch as they took off into the night, Dean's braceleted arm draped out the window.

She sighed as the Impala's tailights faded out of view, and wondered if she'd be seeing them again. God knew what they would do now they'd served their time. Maybe they'd finally find some peace. All those ghosts, all those demons were gone.

Missouri looked down at her Bible, and ran a thumb over the page.

 _I have no greater grace than this, when I hear that my sons are walking in the truth._

  
*

Fin


End file.
